Distract Me
by SilverB91
Summary: "You came to me" "We were trapped down there, surrounded by scavs, my respirator had a hole in it..." two chapters, on in Cassie's and one in Deacon's POV, about the scene omitted between the two of them! Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1 - Cassie

**I own nothing but my own idea of how this scene went and all of that, so don't sue me, please?**

 **I don't really ship Deacon and Cassie** **together but I friend-ship them so much, I thought this scene needed to be given some space... especially since it decided to play in my head on a loop yesterday evening. That said, there is sex in here, and I'm not talking about the hearts and rainbows kind.**

 **One more thing, English isn't my first language and this was written at my phone all in one go, so if you find typos or mistakes, do tell me and I'll correct them!**

 **Kisses all around**

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I clenched my fists, trying to stave off the panic.

My heart was beating like a drum, so loud I could barely hear Deacon breathing right next to me.

Somehow, he had ended up becoming my friend, my… protector, even. He respected me, and had decided that I needed to be trained to defend myself, so he had put a knife in my hand and proceeded to assault me until we were both bleeding and bruised. After a couple of months, he had declared I was good enough not to be dead weight on a hunt for supplies. The knife turned into a gun, and a list of chemicals and medical supplies was stuffed into my pant's back pocket.

Catarina had remarked often that I was a positive influence on him, but I thought it was less about my influence and more that Deacon liked me, respected me, and enjoyed my company enough that he was unwilling to alienate me with his more extreme behaviors.

This was my fifth run with him.

Whitley and his men had turned left a while back, trying to find some piece of machinery, but I had insisted on going deeper into the abandoned mall. I needed _some, any_ chemicals. I knew some had to have been left behind and I needed them. The facility had no painkillers left, nothing to clean wounds but the alcohol Deacon and his men made to drink… and I wasn't so sure that wasn't poisonous. I had argued with Whitley: "We need those things. I can synthesize disinfectant and even some anesthetic with this stuff. I refuse to dig another bullet out of someone who's awake to feel it."

Deacon had sighed. Whatever his reasons, he took my side more often than not. "I'll accompany her. You go find whatever for Jones, I don't care. We'll meet outside in an hour."

It was long past that mark, now. A group of scavengers had attacked us. They had set up camp in the main part of the mall, and they hadn't appreciated our company.

We were trapped. We had hidden in the broken elevator in the basement. The space wasn't tiny, the elevator had been used for transporting goods, probably, given it's size, and the forklift blocking most of the entrance to it, but it also wasn't as big as I would have liked.

"You alright? Cassie?"

Deacon's voice snapped me out of it. I pulled off my respirator.

"What are you doing!?" he flared up like a match. If I was less scared I might have smiled.

"It has a hole. It broke when I hit the door." I head him curse under his breath, his voice worried. "It's fine. You're immune so I can't catch it from you. And if they find us, it won't matter." We both knew what would probably happen to me if they found us.

A quick death was the best case scenario.

"Cassie…"

"I said it's fine, Deacon."

"Fine! Goddamn it…"

"Now, let me see that." I had seen one of the scavs get him with a trowing knife.

"It's fine" he was mocking me, so I punched him. He had taught me well. "When did you get so bossy, bright-eyes?" he drawled.

"I'm a doctor. We are all bossy. It comes with the degree. Now shut up and let me see."

He shrugged off his jacket and the shirt he had under it, grunting in pain all the while. When he was naked from the waist up, I pointed the flashlight to his shoulder. "It missed anything major. You'll have another scar for the collection, but it just needs a few stitches… and _fucking disinfectant_."

Wordlessly he held up a flask. I groaned. That stuff was disgusting at best and toxic at worst, but beggars can't be choosers. I washed out the wound Compared to some of the scars on his back, it was positively tiny. Then the needle. I had a couple of those treaded into the lining of my parka, hidden and ready.

He grunted a couple of times while I stitched him up, but I was quick and I had had practice in the last few months. He muttered some thanks while he shrugged his shirt back on, but left it open and the jacket on the floor. It was warm in here, even thought it was winter outside, and the effort of holding still while someone poked you with a needle had put a sheen of sweat on his chest.

I took off my own jacket, then sat next to him. "Pass me that flask?"

He straightened immediately. "You hurt, Cassie? Let me see." That was the thing about Deacon. He was a borderline sociopath and a dick 24/7, but if he cared about someone he'd do almost anything for them.

"I'm not hurt, I want a drink. I might be hurt later, when that shit scorches a hole in my stomach. But at least I'll be drunk." He grinned, all white teeth and flashing eyes like a tiger, and passed me the flask. There wasn't a lot left but we shared a few swallows.

By the time he tossed the flask in a corner, empty, i was drunk enough to ask: "What happened to you? So many scars…" James didn't have as many, but I didn't say it.

He was silent for long enough, frowning deep enough, that I thought he would not answer at all. Then he took my hand, showing me the new, small callouses on them. "I was thirteen when the world went to shit. I was small, thin. My father was in prison" he hesitated, then went on. "Someone called the cops on him one night while he was beating my mom… he was probably dead already, the bastard, mom was sick and no hospitals would take any more sick people, just the immune… and you don't want to know the stories about what they did to immune kids in there. So it was just me and my brother. No money, no food and two stomaches that growled all the damn time. The world was never real good to hungry kids, but those days… I was already a little bastard, took from dad, I suppose, no problem knifing someone for their supplies, but by the time we walked into the West VII Quarantine Zone, I was fifteen and my brother was scared of me. Fast forward a few years during which everything went… well, good is a big word, but decent. I was twenty-two when they made me chief of security. Again, for a few years things were good, then my brother got hurt during a raid… when he got a fever and the doctors stopped treating him for fear of a new virus… I went nuclear. He died, and I turned into a scavenger, one of the bad ones. The scars are just a consequence."

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"Me too." He cleared his throat. we were silent for a few minutes, then he said: "You know, if Whitley and the others found what they were looking for, you'll go back to 2016 in a few days."  
I hesitated. It was a subject I didn't like to dwell on for a few reasons. "Yeah."

"You say that like you aren't too happy about it."

I frowned. Thought about what I wanted to say. My life was in 2016. My time. My job. Hot water. James Cole. A broken heart. Anger I knew was misguided. Hose Ramse. Venegance. Justice… Jealousy. James (I had taken to calling him that in my head before Chechnya and had never stopped) had stuffed me into a machine, sent me trough time to a place I didn't know how to navigate… and he sent me there alone. He chose Ramse, the guy who put a knife into him in '87 and tried his best to murder the whole world, over me. I hadn't expected that. I thought I was dying, and he left me alone on that metal table. It felt like the worst betrayal… and I didn't know why. I could reason my way to the conclusion that I was being stupid about the whole thing, but I couldn't _feel_ my way past it. I loved him, and I thought James loved me, even if we had never said the words, never made any promises… hell, we had never even held hands…

That was when I realized I was still holding Deacon's giant paw of an hand. And I didn't let go while I answered his implied question. Why wasn't I happier to go home? "There is still a lot to do here… I'm not sure what I should or would do there. And I would feel like I was leaving all of you behind." It wasn't a lie, any of it, but it was so much less than the full truth to feel like it.

"Someone has to find Cole and send him back, and they sure as hell won't trust me to do it." He joked.

"They wouldn't trust you to the bathroom alone."

He shrugged. He really didn't care. "But you will be back. Jones said this isn't a one way trip. She…"

We both tensed when we heard a creak, my heart jackhammering again and my hand flying to my gun. He stopped me, holding the gun low, next to my tight, then when everything stayed quiet, let me go. "Just an animal."

I took a long, deep breath.

Another.

Another.

My heartbeat slowed down.

Seventy beats per minute.

Sixtyfive.

Everything stayed quiet. Deacon was still, listening… until I spoke. "Distract me."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Distract me, Deacon."

He looked at me with narrowed eyes. Contrary to popular opinion at the facility, he wasn't stupid at all. If he had been born a couple of decades earlier I had no trouble picturing him in a business suit, a ruthless financial shark… or, for all I knew, he would have become a teacher, with his love for books. But he had been born to a dying world, and that had honed other aspects over his natural intelligence. He understood my meaning. But he wanted me to say it, apparently. "You are going to have to be more specific than that, Doctor Railly."

Fine, if he wanted to hear it, I wasn't about to shy from saying it. "I want to be fucked until I can't remember I'm scared, Deacon"

He grinned. A happy little sociopath.

I took off my shirt, then pushed off his while I straddled him. He was big under me, with me sitting on his tights, our eyes were level, green to ice blue, and he felt like a wall of muscle. Hard, big and strong.

I didn't kiss him, burying my face under his stubbled jaw, biting his throat.

I felt his hands on my waist, gripping me hungrily, caressing my back with a heavy hand, unhooking my bra, sliding under my hair to grip the nape of my neck. I slid my arms from the straps of the bra, letting it fall to the floor. The hand on my nape fisted in my hair, bringing my face up to his for a kiss that felt more like we were trying to eat each other.

It took a few seconds to get out of our booths and jeans. He was commando, I wasn't.

During one of our earlier supply runs I had found a few pairs of new panties abandoned in a box in the back of a shop and I had hidden them away. I had spent my first few months in this time washing my single pair of cotton panties every night and let me tell you, that got old fast. He traced the lace, shaking his head, grinning a little. "What?"

"Lace underwear." He said, like that was supposed to explain everything. "I feel like I'm about to fuck a woman from an old magazine." His grin widened. "I like."

I chased away the memory of another man saying something like that, kneading his muscles, raising my mouth to his. "Shut up and fuck me, Deacon."

I had thought it would be quick and hard. Maybe even a little painful.

Meaningless like sex between strangers.

I had been wrong. Once he had me naked he took his time. It wasn't lovemaking, I don't think that is possible with a man like Deacon, but he wasn't about to be hurried. He treated my body the way some children deal with a favorite sweet. Avidly savoring every morsel, every small taste.

And I returned the favor. The last man I had had sex with had been Aaron, a couple of years ago, and he was as different from Deacon as a man could be. It was a treat for me, too.

We had no condom, but I had analyzed his blood and knew he was clean, and I had started taking shots to avoid a pregnancy when I was in college and never stopped.

He was big enough that it was uncomfortable at first, but I didn't stop him. I didn't mind the small pain and he seemed to enjoy my nails digging into his back, my teeth in his trapezius muscle.

We moved together, gripping at each other, finding a quick pace that suited us. One of his hands still fisted in my hair, the other gripping the cheek of my butt. I would have marks there tomorrow. My hands were frantically trying to pull him closer, faster, harder, scratching his back, digging into a muscled bicep or shoulder.

Deacon slipped a hand between our bodies and rubbed my clitoris... And I exploded, unexpectedly, all of a sudden, clenching wetly around him, wanting to scream from the pleasure and glad for the hard hand that immediately went to my mouth, shutting me up.

He buried his face in my neck, suffocating his own groans in my skin, roughly toying with my breasts, prolonging my orgasm... And judging from his moans, his, too, until he collapsed on top of me.

I reveled in being squished for a couple of minutes, while our breathing returned to normal and sweat cooled on our skin, until the endorphins started to fade. I always liked those few minutes of being pressed into whatever surface by the body of my partner after sex, glued together by sweat and other fluids, maybe a very primitively feminine enjoyment of being caught, held prisoner, maybe a simpler need to be as close as possible. But after those first few minutes he was just heavy and the floor uncomfortable.

I didn't have time to figure out how to tell him to move, however, because our radio crackled. Whitley was coming.

We dressed quickly, a bit awkwardly, and by the time we were done Marcus and the others were coming down the stairs to the basement.

We snuck out of the mall without another encounter with the scavengers. I was even lucky enough that one of the soldiers had a spare respirator to replace my broken one.

It was a couple of hours later, as we were nearing the facility that Deacon asked, softly, so as not to be overheard: "Regrets?"

I looked him in the eyes when I answered: "None."

He searched my eyes for a second, then "Good." he said, and kept on walking.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this little fic... and if you did R &R, will you? There might be a companion chapter in Deacon's POV in it for you! Plus, it makes me very happy when you do!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Deacon

**DEACONS POV**

 **I love Deacon, and I'm so mad that *SPOILER avoidance right here*... well, if you've seen the last two episodes you know, otherwise, go watch them, what are you waiting for!**

 **dkfuryan and jbrown627, thank you for the reviews, this is for you guys! I'm so glad you liked this story!**

 **While I adore Deacon, I have to give some warning: this chapter is written in his voice, which means, there is no holds barred swearing, sex and, agains, it's not the roses and candle kind. Not for the faint of heart!**

 **I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think?**

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"Doctor Railly, you know the machine is more important than any medical supplies you might find." Whitley's voice was dismissive enough to make me take a step towards him. Cassie's hand on my chest stopped me from wringing his neck.

I could almost feel her fuming. "We need those things. I can synthesize disinfectant and even some anesthetic with these chemicals. I refuse to dig another bullet out of someone who's awake to feel it." She snapped. Damn, she had been really pissed about operating on Carter while he screamed like a little girl. Was still pissed about it, actually.

"Then let someone else do it." Replied Whitley, exasperated. "The machine takes precedence over all of our fates. You know that."

"Nobody else has the training but Jones! Nobody but me would know what is useful."

 _Oh, for God's sake._ We didn't have all day! "I'll accompany her. You go find whatever for Jones, I don't care. We'll meet outside in an hour."

Whitley didn't like it, I could see it in his eyes. He didn't trust me, but he weighted that against the fact that I wouldn't let anything happen to Cassie, and finally agreed. There was supposed to be a pharmacy on the first floor, and she was adamant that she needed sedatives and stuff like that.

We got what we needed with little trouble while Cassie explained that from what she had taken and the stuff she had back at the facility she could make both some crude painkillers and a disinfectant that "wouldn't kill more cells than strictly necessary."

She was still explaining that part when we heard them. Scavs. Fuck. "Run!"

One of them, probably a sentry, saw us and threw a knife. I grunted as it sank into my shoulder before clattering to the ground.

I pushed her down a side corridor, then in a door that led to the basement. Looks like we were lucky today. The basement was big, full of smaller corridors, overturned crates, boxes and boxes of stuff creating small places sheltered from sight, but too exposed.

We run to the back, there must have been an office, a bathroom… anything. Then she pointed to an overturned forklift. It took me a couple of seconds to see the partially open metal door behind it. Whatever it was, it would have to do.

I helped her climb over the forklift, but heard her curse softly as she slipped and hit the door. Damn. I climbed after her and found that the space behind the door was a service elevator, there were still a few boxes in the back of it. Good enough. If someone came we had no secondary exit, but I could shoot them from the gap between the doors.

Hopefully nobody would.

I sat down next to Cassie. She was panicking. I didn't know what to do to bring her out of it, so I shut my mouth and let her calm herself down. After a couple of minutes I asked if she was alright. That seemed to help… until she ripped off her respirator, that is. "What the hell are you doing!?" Cassie showed me the hole in it, said it happened when she hit the door. "Fucking hell."

"It's fine. You're immune so I can't catch it from you. And if they find us, it won't matter." She said, as if consoling me, one hand on my shoulder.

It didn't work. I knew what she was saying, that a quick death by sickness was the best option, but fuck if I liked it. Me and my crew did not take prisoners and I had always believed that if you weren't man enough to get a woman in bed willingly you had no claim to her, but some groups did and the results were much messier than a bullet to the brain or a slashed throat ever would be. "Cassie…", I started, but I didn't know where it was going, and she didn't let me finish anyway: "I said it's fine, Deacon." she snapped.

"Fine! Goddamn it…" I echoed.

"Now, let me see that." she pointed to my shoulder. I had forgotten about it.

"It's fine" I parroted. "When did you get so bossy, bright-eyes?" I drawled a second later when Doctor Railly punched me.

"I'm a doctor. We are all bossy. It comes with the degree. Now shut up and let me see." I sighed, but took off my clothes. I held back a comment about her just wanting to take a look at the goods: she would probably have punched me again, this time harder and somewhere more sensitive than my upper arm. She poked and prodded at the cut for a while, diagnosing it. I could have told her most of it just from experience but kept my mouth shut and passed her the flask I kept in my pocket, when she asked for something to clean the wound. That was going to hurt. Sweat broke out over most of my body while Cassie cleaned and stitched the cut. Still, thanking her for thanking care of me was polite.

I sat down again, my shirt back on, while she pulled off her own jacket. It was warm. "Pass me the flask?" It was somewhere between a plea and a command, and it worried me. "Are you hurt, Cassie? Let me see."

She rolled her eyes in clear exasperation: "I'm not hurt, I want a drink. I might be hurt later, when that shit scorches a hole in my stomach. But at least I'll be drunk."

I grinned and we shared what was left of the alcohol. She hated the stuff, but she hated being scared more.

When I shook the last few drops on my tongue and then tossed the flask to the corner, she finally geared up the courage to ask: "What happened to you? So many scars…"

It had been on her tongue for a while, I had seen her mulling it over for the last few minutes, hell, for the last few months since she had sewed up another wound after we got back the facility from the Twelve, but I still didn't know what to answer. I weighed the possibility of giving her a flippant, meaningless answer, but I must have been drunker than I thought because I unloaded the entire sob story: mom and dad, my baby brother, West VII, all of it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had imagined she would be… disgusted. She wasn't. She just offered her sympathy for my brother… and she understood enough not to offer the same for my parents.

I cleared my throat then decided that a change of subject was needed: "You know, if Whitley and the others found what they were looking for, you'll go back to 2016 in a few days."

"Yeah."

Her reaction surprised me. I thought she would be happier and I said so. She frowned and her face said it all: Cole had broken her heart when he sent her to this time, and he was in 2016. She had never come out and said it, that she was in love with Cole, but I wasn't stupid, I had caught her, those first few days, looking at something that she knew belonged to him with longing in those emerald greens. Then she had started to get angry at Cole. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_ and all of that. Cole chose his friend Ramse over her: he had never been the sharpest tool. Not that I was complaining. His loss, my gain. Then she said: "There is still a lot to do here… I'm not sure what I should or would do there. And I would feel like I was leaving all of you behind."

I contemplated telling her that she best never play poker. She wasn't lying, but the truth was another and we both knew it. I made a small joke instead: "Someone has to find Cole and send him back, and they sure as hell won't trust me to do it."

"They wouldn't trust you to the bathroom alone." she half-laughed.

I shrugged. Didn't really care if they didn't trust me, as long as they didn't get in the way of me protecting Cassie. "But you will be back. Jones said this isn't a one way trip. She…"

There was a creak. I stilled, listening, but she flinched and went for the gun strapped to her tight. I stopped her, listened for a few more seconds then declared: "Just an animal."

She fought to get herself back under control while I kept listening. I listened to the small noises of a rat, her deep breaths, and then she said: "Distract me." and everything screeched to an halt.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

"Distract me, Deacon." she repeated. Her meaning was there, in her eyes. She wanted sex. But she needed to say it, if she wanted it: I didn't want any misunderstanding. She wouldn't be the first to have regrets the day after and claim to have been pushed into something she didn't want. "You are going to have to be more specific than that, Doctor Railly."

I saw her breath, make a decision and say it. "I want to be fucked until I can't remember I'm scared, Deacon" and I grinned.

She climbed on me while she ripped off her shirt. My cock snapped to attention so fast I saw stars. Cassie was small and soft under my hands, her skin smooth, with few scars and I had to remind myself not to leave marks while she bit my neck like a feral she-cat.

 _Oh, Cole, you sorry dumbass, your loss, man, your loss._

When she threw away her bra I ravaged her mouth. Small tits, pale gold skin. My fist in her hair. I had wanted to do that for weeks. All those soft blond hair waving in from of me like a red flag in front of a bull. When the plague hit I was just a kid, but I was old enough to stroke one off to the hot doctor that was on the telly 24/7… this was one my earliest fantasies brought to life.

Then she kicked off her pants. Where the hell had she even found lace panties? When she noticed I was staring she asked: "What?"

"Lace underwear. I feel like I'm about to fuck a woman from an old magazine. I like." I grinned.

"Shut up and fuck me, Deacon." The doctor was impatient, was she? If she thought this was going to be a quickie she was very very wrong. I was going to take my time, enjoy this.

I dragged her underwear down those long, hairless legs of hers, revealing the damp, blond hair hiding her pretty little slit. I tasted her, drove her crazy, licked and bit every tender little place where she was sensitive. She reciprocated, kneading shoulders, arms, anything she could reach.

When she was liquid, about to come, I fit myself at her entrance and damn if it wasn't as close to haven as a bastard like me could get. Tight, small and so wet.

 _I will kiss Cole for this when he comes back._

She writhed under me like a wild thing and I loved every minute of it.

When I touched her clit she detonated. I shoved my hand over her mouth, keeping her silent, because she was nanoseconds form screaming and bringing all the damn scavs right on top of us. Just in time, too. She clenched around me so hard I couldn't keep from coming with her. Her tight little sheath kept milking me and I shuddered, burying my face in her shoulder to keep from making noise.

Finally, I collapsed on top of her.

 _Best. Day. Ever._

While I tried to gather my wits enough to climb off of her, the radio crackled from somewhere under our clothes. Damn Whitley and his timing. "The scavs retreated. We are coming to get you."

We didn't say anything while we threw our clothes back on as fast as possible, but I couldn't resist looking back at her a couple of times. Damn, she was gorgeous.

She had marks from my hand on her ass and that pleased the possessive bastard I usually kept locked up inside me. I grinned, giving her my back once again, hiding the expression.

The others found us and one of the boys gave Cassie a spare respirator. I breathed easier at that, as if it was me who needed it not to get the damn plague. We picked our way out of the destroyed building, careful to avoid the scavengers's patrols.

We - well, I would say marched, but it was too disorganized for that and too deliberate to be a walk - headed north, back toward the facility, crossing what once might have been busy streets filled with the gleaming cars I had drooled over as a kid. I saw Cassie give long looks to destroyed buildings she probably knew from 2016, or to landmarks taken over by nature.

It had always shocked me how fast earth had reclaimed the planet. I could see that same frightened awe in her face. Barely thirty years and trees had cracked the blacktop of the streets, grown over, under or inside buildings, cars and everything else. Nature was fierce.

It was a couple of hours later, when she lagged behind the others a bit that I had the occasion to ask the question that had been sitting heavily on me for the past few hours: "Regrets?"

Cassie looked at me, those blue eyes of her clear. "None."

I searched her expression for clues that she was lying. Not finding any, I said "Good" and left it at that.

We didn't speak about it, not that day nor the next, not even the day Jones said the machine was ready and Cassie would be going back to 2016 to find Cole.

I bit back a curse when I heard: I had hoped to have a little more time with her.

While I knew she wasn't really ready to face the idiot who had broken her heart, I said nothing.

She wasn't mine, after all.

When Cole came back… the boy was all soulful eyes and gentle voice, where she was concerned: he would get her back. It might take him a day or a few weeks, but Cassie's heart belonged to Cole… even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, much less anyone else. She didn't love me, but she was my friend, which was just as important to someone like me.

But, hey, it wasn't like I minded playing placeholder. And I had no plan to go down without a good goddamn fight.

She had given me hope when I was a boy, been a friend to a man most people didn't trust within reach and damn if she wasn't the best lay I ever had… and sharp like one of her scalpels, too.

While I told her to "Be careful", as she sat on the metal chair that would shove her back almost thirty years, I silently promised to give Cole the beating of his life if he ever hurt her again.

She was… she was important to me.

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 **So, this is it. I hope you enjoyed it, and that you will tell me what you think.**

 **I have a couple of ideas for a new 12Monkeys ff, but it will have nothing to do with this one, if you are interested, check out my profile in a few weeks!**

 **Kisses all around 3**


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